


Mint and Tiffle Berry

by kira_katrine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Great British Bake Off Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26163562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kira_katrine/pseuds/kira_katrine
Summary: Hermione is having trouble figuring out Luna's approach to the competition.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: Alternate Universe Exchange 2020





	Mint and Tiffle Berry

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kitsunerei88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitsunerei88/gifts).



“What are you doing?”

Luna kept on humming some unrecognizable tune, twirling her hair with one hand and stirring a green substance Hermione couldn’t recognize in a small bowl with the other. “What is that supposed to be?” Hermione asked again.

Luna finally glanced up at her. “A cake.”

Had Hermione asked that question of anyone else in the competition, that much would have been obvious. That was the day’s challenge, after all. They were each supposed to make a cake that was shaped to look like something other than a cake, preferably something that represented who they themselves were. Hermione, naturally, planned to shape hers like a stack of books, and to make it lemon-flavored--which Dumbledore had mentioned in the very first season of the show was his favorite.

But this was Luna Lovegood. You could never be quite sure with Luna Lovegood.

“And what flavor is yours supposed to be?” Hermione asked. 

“Tiffle berry, with mint frosting,” Luna replied.

“Tiffle berry?” Hermione asked. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of that,” she said, making a mental note to look it up as soon as she got the chance.

“Lots of people haven’t,” Luna said. "I'm not sure why, they're very useful and they taste great." She pulled a handful of something out of a bag and leaned over to Hermione. “Here.”

Hermione peered over at whatever Luna was holding. They looked a bit like green grapes, but oddly misshapen, with lumps poking out all over.

“Want to try one?” Luna asked. “I’ve got plenty--they’re nice and sweet!”

“No, thank you,” Hermione said. She glanced into Luna’s mixing bowl, which she had set off to the side. “And doesn’t that look a bit more... dry than it’s typically supposed to be at this point?” 

“The tiffle berries will take care of that,” Luna said. She picked up her bowl of green goop. “I think I’ve got enough now.” She poured it into the mixing bowl and started mashing everything together.

“You can’t just--do that,” Hermione said, a bit shocked.

“Why not?” Luna said. “You’re not the only one who practiced before you came here, you know.”

“Recipes are written the way they are for a reason,” Hermione said. 

“And the judges want us to do something interesting,” Luna said. “They want us to be ourselves. Not just be them again. They’ve got that covered.”

“Minerva McGonagall literally wrote the book on illusion cakes,” Hermione said. _And I of all people should know._ “So I’m going to give her the respect she’s due and get it _right_.”

“I’m sure you will,” Luna said. She sounded sincere about it, too--Hermione wasn’t sure Luna could have sounded mean even if she’d wanted to. “You did win the technical challenge, after all.” This was true--Hermione’s Jaffa cake had been judged the best. She’d been nervous presenting it to the judges--she was sure all the other contestants had felt similarly, with the possible exception of Luna’s seemingly unbreakable calm, but she wasn’t sure how she’d ever face herself in the mirror if she ruined everything so early in the competition--but at least so far, her hard work had paid off. “You’re very good at this, even if you are awfully close-minded about certain things.”

“Sometimes, there’s just a way things are supposed to be done.” Luna had come in dead last in that same technical after presenting a Jaffa cake that was an odd purplish color, with frosting that was too runny and had dripped down the sides onto the plate below.

Luna shrugged. “Maybe. I find that a rather silly way of looking at things, myself.”

“You’re one to talk,” Hermione muttered. _I didn’t spend months practicing these recipes to be called silly by a girl who believes in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks._

“I know,” Luna said. “I know everyone thinks I’m a bit strange. But that’s just because they don’t understand what’s really going on.”

“And just what is really--” _No_ , Hermione thought. _I don’t actually want to get her started._ “So you’re just… misunderstood?” she said instead. “You think you know better than the experts? Than all the books out there?”

“Why is Minerva McGonagall’s idea of how a cake should be made more important than mine or yours or my father’s or anyone else’s?” Luna said. “I doubt McGonagall even knows about the Wuddled Bligs, but they still caused that mysterious wave of earaches and foot-itches in 1904. Dumbledore might know about them, though--he seems a bit more like the type.”

“Luna, this is a competition,” Hermione tried to explain, though she suspected it was hopeless. “And McGonagall is one of the judges. What she thinks is actually quite important, even if you have no respect for her accomplishments otherwise.”

“Oh, I have quite a lot of respect for her,” Luna said. “She’s quite an intelligent woman, you know. And she does have a creative side, deep down. It’d be wonderful if she showed it more.” Hermione was speechless--now Luna was giving _McGonagall_ critique? “And as for the Bligs… Nobody can know everything, after all. Not even me, or you, no matter how much either of us wants to act like it.”

Hermione stood next to her finished cake, heart pounding as the judges approached her station. She knew she’d done everything right--she was sure, she’d checked and re-checked every step--but was it really up to their standards? Could it really be better than everybody else’s in the tent? She’d tried to observe everyone else’s conversations with Dumbledore and McGonagall, but she hadn’t quite been able to make out what they were saying. She could only hope what she’d done was good enough.

When they reached her, Dumbledore smiled and nodded approvingly as he looked at the cake. _Definitely a good sign_. 

Dumbledore cut a small slice out of Hermione’s cake, and he and McGonagall both examined it closely. Hermione stood frozen, suppressing the urge to burst out with a million explanations of every step of her baking process.

“Your layers are quite even,” McGonagall said. 

“And your frosting looks to be just the right consistency,” added Dumbledore. The two judges each cut off a bite and lifted it to their mouths as Hermione stood by with bated breath.

“Very light and refreshing,” McGonagall said after swallowing.

“Indeed,” Dumbledore said. “That was absolutely scrumptious.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as the two judges moved on, toward Luna’s station. Of course, she couldn’t know if she would win, but at the very least she was pretty sure she wouldn’t be going home yet. 

Hermione had no idea what Luna’s cake was supposed to be. After their earlier conversation, she’d had to spend most of their time focusing on her own baking, and looking at it now wasn’t making things much clearer. It seemed to be some kind of animal, with paws sticking out from underneath it, and a head sticking up, and perhaps a tentacle emerging from its forehead? But Hermione had to admit that, while the creature wasn’t one she recognized, the cake looked much better than she’d expected. Hermione wasn’t even sure herself how Luna had managed to make the tentacle hold together so well.

She still couldn’t tell all of what the judges and Luna were saying to each other, but she thought she caught the words “very creative” and “nice and moist.” As the two judges tasted Luna’s cake, Hermione saw smiles on both of their faces. Luna looked quite pleased with herself too. Hermione edged a bit closer to where they were all standing, trying to hear what was going on.

“Your flavors are very interesting,” McGonagall said. “They work together quite well--the mint provides a nice contrast.”

“Simply delicious,” Dumbledore said--and reached out to shake Luna’s hand! Luna looked a little caught off guard at that--the first crack Hermione had seen in her unflappable demeanor--but took it.

Once the judges had moved on to the next contestant, Hermione turned towards Luna.

“How did you do that?” she whispered.

Luna looked a bit puzzled. “Hermione, you saw how I did it. You were right there, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but--I thought you were--” She realized how awful what she’d been about to say would have sounded. _Maybe I should have sooner_ , she thought. “I just thought--well, your strategy hadn’t worked out so well for you the last time.”

“No, it didn’t,” Luna said. “At least not from your point of view, or McGonagall’s, or even Dumbledore’s. Or probably most of the people’s who watch this show, really. But I know Daddy was watching. And I know he’d be proud of me.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, not sure how to respond. That was actually… kind of sweet? Maybe?

“Things don’t work out well all the time,” Luna said. “And you can’t always predict when they will. I don’t think my cake was better than yours, Hermione. Maybe the judges will. Maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll decide someone else’s was better than both of ours. I just think they were different. There isn’t really a right answer.”

“Why did you decide to do this show, Luna?” Hermione was even less sure now that she understood--which was never a feeling she enjoyed. “You seem to be missing the point of it a little bit.”

“Who says what the point of it is?” said Luna. “Maybe you think it’s about winning and knowing everything and being the best. I think it’s about having fun and baking delicious cakes.” She stuck a finger into her cake’s frosting and licked it off. “And I think I succeeded today. We’ll see whether you did or not. I hope you do.”

Hermione still wasn’t sure she got it--but she also wasn’t sure Luna cared. “Thanks,” she said--and she meant it.


End file.
